The OOC
by The sneed
Summary: Everyone’s favourite merry band of reapers are involuntarily dragged into a number of horrifying situations. Pink postits, The OC, friendless lobsters and any number of crossovers abound in an adventure that doesn’t make sense in the smallest degree. Warn
1. Of Pink PostIts

Disclaimer: I do not own Dead Like Me or any of the other crossovers (at present there are hints of Futurama.)

In fact the real credit for this fic goes to echidnite who made me begin writing it on one fine two hour boat trip. She is also responsible for what little editing there is.

Usually post-its were yellow, this caused George to think something may be horribly wrong, the fact that the post-its were pink that is. George hated the colour pink it reminded her of Daisy.

After some contemplation of the post it along with some contemplation of her waffles George being George decided the post it could be whichever the hell colour they wanted to be and instead continued to eat her waffles, flicking pieces of said waffles at a nearby small child at convenient intervals.

Sadly the little brat hadn't started crying yet so George reached for Rubes toast only to have her hand slapped away. An unfortunate state of affairs, George liked making small children cry.

George was pulled out or her most enjoyable activity i.e. eating waffles and throwing them at small children by an inane whining in the vicinity of her left ear. George considered throwing the remainder of her waffles at Daisy but decided some people weren't worth wasting waffles.

Then some lobster like creature ran through the door swiping the remainder of Georges waffles and yelling "I'm Jesus" George came to a decision that with pink post-its and orange lobsters her day couldn't get any worse. As usual she was wrong very wrong. Later that day George would wish she could die… again.

"Why are the post-its pink" said Mason.

"Actually" replied George "I was wondering too. Didn't quite know how to phrase the question but I'm glad you could just blurt it out stupidly"

"I blurt things out stupidly; maybe that is why my beloved Daisy hates me so. Oh woe is me, me is woe, is me woe."

"Shut up and grow a backbone"

Rube sitting across the table closely scrutinising his toast, looked up and proceeded to answer with a cryptic story that nobody understood, not even Zoidberg/Jesus. Realising this he rephrased it thus- "Road trip!"

George wanted to die.

"Fabulicious" Daisy gushed "I'll go pack. I have the sweetest little swimsuit. If we go anywhere good I'll lend you something to wear George." Springing out of her seat and knocking Mason's orange juice into his lap, she ponced out of the door.

"She doesn't know where were going yet" Roxy pointed out, slapping Mason on the upside on the back of his head for staring woefully at the ceiling and whispering

"Why won't she love me" in an angsty tone. Mason had become such a wet rag after giving up alcohol.

The narrator who we shall call Bob pointed out that everyone was acting like mopey idiots. Zoidberg concurred.

Finally Rube finished staring at his toast, deciding it would offer no further philosophical conversation and informed his milk that they were going to orange county to fill in for a group of reapers who had got lost on a road trip to London to fill in for a group of reapers who had got lost on a road trip to London.

The London reapers had incidentally been lost on a road trip to fill in for a group of reapers who had got lost on a trip to fill in for another group of reapers and so on and so forth.

"Right" said George

"Why not" said Roxy

"Daisy my love" said Mason

"Hooray" said Zoidberg

"We shall need transport" Rube gestured widely

"Shall?"

"Shall, will, whatever floats your boat peanut"

George wandered off muttering "My boat has sunk" while looking for rocks to throw at Rube.

"Let's steal a bus" said Daisy appearing from a phone booth with a pile of luggage.

"Way ahead of you Baby" said Mason pulling up in a violently orange mini bus.

"Hey weren't you just over there?" Roxy shook her head; working with these halfwits was really getting to her.

"Don't question it!" yelled Mason turning to Daisy and pulling his best seductive look "I have a bus baby, would you be interested in coming for a ride"

"Ouch Roxy, that was my head no need to slap me."

Daisy giggled and climbed into the bus after Roxy.

"Peanut" yelled Rube piling into the bus and ducking the rock that came flying at his head. He wondered if there would be toast in Orange County.


	2. Fire indeed hot

Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Like Me; in fact all my information about the show comes from echidnite so if you're going to sue anyone sue her. Just kidding.

Thanks as always to echidnite, my fantastic though slightly weird Beta.

Snaps and claps to Phifa and Debwy the wonderful reviewers.

Onward…

"Ahh, here we are. Welcome to Orange County."

"Really?" asked George bouncing out of her seat like a giant well…. Bouncy ball

"Nope," Mason replied, "just screwing with yah Georgie. We haven't even left the city."

The look George gave could freeze water in February, a look that could boil Mercury despite its boiling temperature of 356.58°C, a look that would make small children recoil in fright. Leaning down George picked up a rock stashed for this special purpose and threw it at the back of Rube's head.

"Oww, what the hell did I do to deserve that?"

"I dunno," replied George shrugging her shoulders in resignation "You didn't exactly warn me that Mason was just messing about."

"I thought it was obvious, we haven't even left the city."

George glared, sulked and began searching the floor of the bus for more rocks. Her search was interrupted by a crazy spin of the car that threw her and everyone else onto the floor of the bus.

"What the" yelled Roxy followed by a string of profanities.

Daisy flicked her hair over her shoulder from her position, namely where she'd landed, in Masons lap.

"Masons started drinking again," turning to Roxy and flicking her hair for the fourth consecutive time.

"Fire indeed hot."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"Roxy sweetie you know I love you right but sometimes you're really weird." "Weird even for a dead person." Daisy replied

"And that's quite odd," affirmed Bob

"Hey shut up, did I ask you Bob?"

"Wait," said Rube "Who the hell are you?"

"I am Bob, at you service."

"Like duh," replied Daisy

At her comment Rube finally let go of the pent up angst and burst into tears. George patted his back awkwardly and wondered what everyone had been smoking today. For some reason everyone was irritable or wimpy. She idly twirled a rock on her finger; sadly there were no small children about to throw it at. She aimed at Rube then paused, maybe she'd throw it at him later he seemed to be having a rough day.

Meanwhile Roxy was wondering why the hell she was going on a car trip with these dead beat morons who quite frankly smelt horrible.

"Rube, stop being such a girl and stop crying," said Mason irritably staring at Daisy who was snogging the Bob guy.

Roxy smacked Mason on the shoulder "Sometimes you really can be an insensitive jerk"

"Everybody's a jerk. You, me, this jerk" Mason pointed at Bob.

"Look," Bob replied "I'd hate to tread on any toes so if you have some prior claim on the young lady we should settle this like gentlemen"

In response Mason leant over punched Bob square in the face. "Get out"

"Daisy my love"

"Sorry, you should have punched him back"

"You lot are really weird" Bob fumed retreating from the violently orange minibus

Pulling Daisy back into his lap Mason smirked.

"Amen to that sister" he replied and slammed the door.

Sometime later

"Are we there yet?"

"No"

"Are we there yet?"

"No"

"Are we dead yet?"

"No… actually yes"

"Hey, did you hear that?" Roxy said suddenly.

"The 'kerthunka a plunk' coughing sound accompanied by a screeching of tyres, a loud thunk like sound, squealing brakes and Mason swearing."

"Yeah, exactly that" Roxy replied.

"Nope didn't hear a thing."

Roxy began smacking her head on the bus window.

"That my dear chums was the sound of this piece of …"

"Toast" Rube supplied.

"I was going to say junk or another four letter word but yes toast will do nicely. AS I was saying…"

"That my dear chums" Daisy interjected.

"Was the sound" Roxy continued.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH" Mason yelled, his handsome face turning an odd puce-like shade.

"But Mason" said Daisy rubbing her thumb seductively along Mason's cheekbone "I thought the sound of my voice was music to your ears"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this" said Roxy

"Can I ask a question?"

"You just did George" Mason replied

George gave the entire bus a glare that spoke volumes, it portrayed her message loud and clear. It was a look that said "I have rocks." The bus fell silent.

"May I continue now? Good. Why have we stopped moving?"

"The bus is dead"

"Ding dong the bus is dead" George began singing

Rube put his hand on her shoulder "Now is not the time"

"Look" said Mason "the way I see it we have two options, we either steal another bus or get out and start walking to a gas station.

Roxy looked along the deserted road in the middle of some sort of wilderness. Daisy looked at the slightly squished interior of the bus. Mason looked at Daisy. George looked at Zoidberg. Zoidberg hugged Rube. For their own, various reasons they all descended from the bus and started off into the deep dark wilderness.

A shiver went up George's spine and she unconsciously shifted so she was closer to Roxy. The silence hung thickly in the air like some impenetrable barrier of inconceivable fear.

It was broken by Daisy's whiny voice. "I can't walk any further in these shoes. I'm an actress not a marathon runner"

George sighed

Heaving slightly Mason swung Daisy around and lifted her off her feet, literally.

"Thanks Mason" Daisy simpered

Roxy turned George around.

"You don't want to see this kid"

"I'm eighteen"

"But you look so young"

"Whatever"

"Did you hear that" asked Rube

"Hear Daisy and Mason making out, unfortunately"

"No, that other sound"

"Which Sound?"

"That sound"

"Oh" replied George turning towards the distinct sound of heavy footsteps. "That sound."

"Bugger" Thought George.

Something was coming.


	3. Rufus

Disclaimer: I do not own dead like me, Futurama, Shaun of the Dead or David Duchovny. I do not own the rights to the concept of toast or the listed facts about toast. I do however own a piece of toast, or at least I did until about five minutes ago.

* * *

Fear was rising from the butterflies hovering in George's stomach. George supposed the butterflies were on drugs. She felt every last hair on her neck stand on end, she readied her stance. George could feel the individual muscles in her fingers tighten around the rock in her hand; she rocked onto the balls of her feet, ready to fight or fly. From behind a conveniently placed bush the most horrible creature known to man emerged. It lifted its hand, opened its mouth and said the terrible, horrifying, stupefying words

"Did anybody order a pizza?"

"Er no" replied Mason, "but we'll eat it anyway if you don't want it"

"Are you sure none of you go by the name of Seymour Asses?"

"Positive" said Rube returned to his element from the appalling display of girlish emotions. Personally he blamed the toast.

"We'll in that case go ahead, the pizza is yours"

"Mine, mine. Give it to me, Robits. " Zoidberg said beginning to hyperventilate

"I am not a Robit, you fat fish" said Roxy

"Fine then grumpy human female."

"Grumpy, you're calling me grumpy."

"Zoidberg thinks grumpy, ugly human female needs a mate"

"Why you little!" Lunging at Zoidberg and realising too late that she left her gun in the sandwich she had made out of her gun, which she subsequently eaten. Leaning towards George's emergency pile of rocks and receiving a bruise on the middle of her forehead for her pains.

Roxy decided some planning and scheming was needed. After ten minutes of head scratching and deep contemplation, along with some foot stamping, nose wiggling and thumb twiddling she hit upon the perfect scheme. It was brilliant, miraculous, parfait, maravilloso, foolproof.

Sadly her miraculous scheme was lost as at that moment a creature of indescribable horror flung itself at the Zoidberg creature and began biting at its neck.

George thought this was slightly odd.

* * *

Meanwhile…

Rube was considering asking who this apparently motley group of humans were and why one of them was biting the odd lobster creature's neck, but decided instead to count his blessings that they had incapacitated the stupid lobster that was eating all the food.

Rube was very protective of his toast. In fact, he thought he might just have some now.

Rube lovingly sliced a piece of bread to the perfect proportions for size to hunger ratio.

He located the butter he had hidden in Daisy's spare pair of shoes.

From his pocket he withdrew a shiny bread and butter knife, so shiny he could see every star in the starless sky.

Carrying the bread with the utmost care, Rube produced a toaster from the depths of his handbag.

He placed the bread in the toaster and began the ritual of waiting.

During this period of time Rube generally contemplated the enigma that was toast.

He noted that in 1983, a Japanese artist made a copy of the Mona Lisa completely out of toast.

He mused over the fact that the browning reaction of toast was called Maillard Reaction.

He chuckled merrily over the French joke that the reason the English invented toast was because it was the only way to butter bread in their climate.

He had once tried to share the anecdote with Daisy and had received a tedious description about all the toast she had eaten after having slept with famous people for his trouble.

Shaking this horrid vision from his head, Rube returned to the logistics of toast making. There were any number of methods. Toast could be made with a toaster, a toaster oven, griller, oven rack, campfire or fireplace.

Toast could even be made over a fire of Daisy's shoes and photos of her numerous ex-boyfriends.

As he removed the toast from the toaster and buttered it with the most loving care Rube contemplated the final mystery of French toast.

With a smile of the most perfect contentment he raised the perfect slice to his mouth. His eyes slipped closed and his heart rate accelerated. It was like he was falling in love with each individual piece.

He opened his mouth…..

And the toast was ripped from his hand by the Zoidberg creature, even as it fell to its death.

Rube sat on his toaster and wept.

* * *

With five minutes of this strange band of misfits appearing from behind a tree, the group of reapers had already sized them up.

Daisy in her superficial way had checked out the men first and decided there was no talent there. One of them was drooling and moaning with a violently distorted face. Nothing could disguise the inexpressibly vacant look in his blank orbs.

The other male who had thrown himself at the Zoidberg creature and was biting at his neck, was even worse. Daisy glanced at the women briefly, they were no competition.

"Hello, I'm Shaun" said the individual directly in front of Daisy, he looked slightly sheepish. In response Daisy raised an eyebrow, her eyes straying idly to his shirt pocket.

"You've got red on you" she replied

"Er….yes I know" There was an uncomfortable silence. For some reason the phrase 'make the molecules in the hostesses undergarments shift to the right.' Over the years Shaun had learnt to ignore the voices in his head, they had begun to sound vaguely like his girlfriend.

"Look you seem like a nice girl…" Shaun started

"That has got to be like the oldest pickup line ever"

"Actually, it wasn't a pickup line." Daisy went and hid behind a tree to sulk. It was like walking past a group of teenage boys in a miniskirt and expecting lewd catcalls and then not getting any. It was completely unacceptable.

Shaun turned to the stern looking woman, she'd be good for Ed. Pity he was a soulless Zombie. I mean Shaun, being a good friend had tried to find Ed a girl; he put an Ad in the newspaper and everything. Sadly it seemed no one was interested in a "drooling, dead guy with lots to offer, seeks young attractive woman with normal coloured eyes." He didn't know which part of it had put the girls off. It was sad that all the dead girls had white eyes and chunks of the faces missing, would a normal dead girl be too much to ask?

"Look" said Liz, since Shaun had retreated into his own world, leaving the look of a stunned Llama in his wake. "We don't really know where we are. There was this incident with a couch and something that looked like a mammoth or a buffalo, look anyway we don't know what this place is, but if there are no Zombies then I'm staying.

"Zombies?" said Roxy

"Yes Zombies. The living dead, the apathetic creatures, easily manipulated. Like TV."

"Actually" replied Roxy "we don't seem to have any of those."

"Thank god. I'm sick to death of well dead people."

Roxy just looked at Liz, some people were cursed with really, rotten luck.

* * *

As Mason averted his eyes from Daisy for a brief period, his attention was arrested by the true hideousness of the creature now known as Ed. His deep internal struggle was advertised to the world in dog like manner of head shaking. Dear God Daisy would never fancy him now.

But there was something deeper, something darker edging its way through his consciousness like someone pushing into the lunch line of his awareness, and this thing was buying pizza.

Hawaiian or maybe meat lovers. Anyway it was definitely deep pan. A pan so deep Mason was flung of his feet with the sheer force of the heart rendering flashback. Smashing his head against a rock, semiconsciousness became unconsciousness and his last lucid thought was why the hell the Ed creature had inspired these thoughts.

The realisation hit him like a Vogon space ship and all that he had tried desperately to hide from the cruel world came pouring into his head like some kind of brain cocktail. Mason faced the past. He had been a really ugly teenager.

His past began playing in his in the form of a Hollywood blockbuster movie type scenario. Fighting against his stream of unconsciousness Mason watched the title appear "Mason, the hideous beast" based on true facts from his distorted mind.

"Oh well" he thought, maybe I'll be played by Orlando Bloom. His hopes were crushed as the actor's names flashed by.

"Bugger, David Duchovny"

* * *

Now for the thankyou's. Thanks must go to Echindite and Debwy for being too lazy to Beta this, sorry for spelling and grammatical errors btw. This chapter is dedicated to Paula who decided on the name 'Rufus' which has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the actual story.

Now I have a request. Since I am extremely interested as to whether or not anyone other than the unfortunate people who were kind of forced to read it, i.e. Echidnite, Fuzzy, Phifa, Debwy and Paula has actually glanced over this well…. Story.

So if you have read this and are not one of the above please leave something by way of a review. I don't even expect actual reviews just one word, so long as it's a good one like exacerbate or llama or stimulus and I will be pleased as punch.

The first reviewer will have the next chapter dedicated to them, currently entitled 'ballad of fallen lava lamps'


	4. Ballad of fallen lava lamps

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy, Dead like Me, Cowboy Bebop, Futurama, The Phantom of the Opera or Hillary Duff. Nor do I have 3000 francs or a goat.

A significant section of this chapter is verbatim but is hopefully still in the spirit of Fanfic.

I would like to apologise for the heinously long wait on this, also for the general horribleness and verbosity, it really doesn't seem to get anywhere. Perhaps the next chapter will be better, probably not.

This contains bad fluffiness, sadly not Maisy Dason, I mean Daisy Mason. Maybe next chapter. Sorry echidnite.

This next chapter contains ……………. Drumroll

THE RISE OF ZOMBERG

Reviews are always welcome, even bad reviews.

_

* * *

_

"Love is far too complicated to explain."

-The Encyclopedia Galactica-

"Love is dangerous. Avoid if possible."

-The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy-

_

* * *

Angsty flashback number one_

_It all began when he was a member of the pink dragon syndicate. He had once suggested they rename it the murky brown syndicate due to the fact that pink was not a masculine colour and kept getting dirty when he slid around in sewerage pipes. His girl friend of the time (enter hideous posy shot of Hilary Duff) pointed out if he did not crawl around in said sewers, pink uniform would stay all spandy clean._

_Viscous named for his viscosity, took pink uniform comment personally as had designed said uniform and thought them dead sexy. As a result he convinced Masons girlfriend of the time to ………………… dun dun dahh…………… kill him. _

_Viscous' plan came undone when Mason's girlfriend Debwy decided that mud and sewerage excrement was really very hot, saving our unlikely and unworthy hero. Debwy being at heart a nasty little show off timed her act of good faith for maximum angst. _

_The night was dark, very dark, you have no idea how very dark it was. The rippling clouds grumbled threatening to spill their burden of acid upon the heads of the unwitting victim. Not acid rain, just your ordinary hydrogen fluoride acid. Debwy stood under her titanium umbrella, her greasy oops… shiny hair glinting in the light of the lava lamp sitting on a nearby gravestone._

_Mason walked slowly towards her, he paused. "I'm thinking of buying a pogo stick" he said._

_Debwy gasped. "It was raining that day as well"_

_Mason looks confused "I didn't mention rain, or that day. In fact what the hell are you talking about?"_

"_Oh for god's sake Mason, let's try this again" Debwy grinds her teeth menacingly._

"_It was raining that day as well"_

"_It never rains, but it pours……… He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass: as showers that water the earth……… Raindrops keep falling on my head at night."_

"_Right that's it, I'm killing you"_

"_No just give me one more chance" Mason pleaded, "I love you"_

"_Alright… it was raining that day as well"_

"_You didn't come because of the rain?" Mason replied his eyes beseeching her to say that she loved him._

"_I was supposed to kill you. That day if I had killed you I would have been free." Debwy replied, hoping against hope and more hope and some more hope that she had made the right decision._

"_So why didn't you? Why did you choose to be pursued?" Mason said checking his appearance in the reflective surface of the lava lamp._

"_Because I bought these really great running shoes for half price at Wal-Mart."_

"_Good reason" Mason replied "so we're good then?"_

"_Aren't you going to fight Viscous in a really dramatic and angsty manner?"_

"_Maybe later, I think I'll buy that pogo stick first"_

_Patting Debwy on the shoulder in a sisterly manner, Mason hopped out from under the titanium umbrella, oblivious to the destructive power of the acid. Moaning in pain Mason turned from Debwy's solitary figure. He ran away squealing……_

_Like a little girl_

* * *

Mason sat up rubbing his head from the sheer force of his past. He absentmindedly rubbed his now perfect left cheek. Looking up at the scene before him, where Rube was muttering and pacing and Daisy was poncing off into the distance, he made an executive decision and knocked himself out again, this time with Daisy's shoe._

* * *

Angsty flashback number two_

_It was cold and it was dark and it was wet and Mason had no idea why he was living in a stinky, damp cellar. Dragging himself to his feet Mason stomped off in the general direction of his space-odyssey-monolith-esque organ and fell head first into the lake. _

_It was cold and it was dark and it was wet and Mason had no idea why he was living in a stinky, damp cellar with a stinky, damp lake in the middle of it. So he went off to compose a song about the lake and llama's and pyjamas. In that order. _

_Several hours later, Mason was in a filthy mood. He'd spent the better part of the morning starring through strategically placed mirrors and peepholes at the love of his life. Sadly all he could see, as a result of his shoddy carpentry, was the tip of her button nose and the heel of her shoe. _

_Patience was a virtue and Mason was willing to wait for his love to come rushing into his arms in the middle of a field of buttercups wearing a……well he was willing to wait. So long as he had the privilege of effectively spying on her. He had payed 3000 francs for Nathan Hardy's "so you've decided to become a stalker" and he expected results. _

_When he'd finally given up on the peephole idea he decided to slink around in the shadows for a while but had been discovered by a group of preppy ballerina types who had immediately began screaming 'the ghost', 'the ghost' , systematically fainted and then asked for his number. _

_He threatened them, brandishing a very scary looking plastic sword and they'd replied that they liked authoritative men and attempted to grope him. _

_He did what any respectable phantom would do when faced with a pack of simpering women, he cut and ran._

_Twenty minutes later, keeping a weathered eye open to any sign of the ballerina types, Mason was hiding in a hidden enclave behind the section of the Library that held bibles and theology textbooks. He sat, knees bent, eyes soft watching the love of his life flick through a pile of Who magazines. She was often here in this corner poring over her beloved Who magazines he loved the way a lock of hair fell onto the page every so often._

_He sighed and opened his mouth. Christine…Christine he murmured lovingly. His angel looked up. He bent forward his eyes filled with hope, his heart pounding._

_It was crushed when Christine's irritating ballerina friend Meg pounced onto the scene. Stifling another girlish scream Mason acknowledged the truth; he had developed a phobia of ballerinas. _

_

* * *

Later (in the smelly dark cave)_

_In the silence of the night Mason could hear his own thoughts bouncing back and forth, through his consciousness, like a crazy Tennis court…… of horror. In a strange out of body experience Mason began to evaluate his life, his motivations, and his great passions. _

_He faced facts; he was in love with a wonderful, charming slightly anal girl. Her name was Christine. And that was why he was living in this never-ending nightmare because she would never love him; he was a monster a charming, friendly perfectly justified monster. He simply wasn't good enough for her. _

_Everything was against him; she was young, beautiful, intelligent, prudish and anal. But he loved her oh God he loved her, more than cookie dough ice cream, more than buffy the vampire slayer reruns, more than alcohol. Well maybe equally as much as alcohol. The point was he loved her and he was going to do his darndest to make her his and if a few ballet girls were frightened and several people dies all the better. The path of true love never did run smooth._

_This time things would be perfect……… this time he had a pogo stick and a plan._

* * *

Thanks for reading feel free to drop a review.

For your troubles here are some useless facts I came across when I was looking for the term for Ballerina phobia.

The average human eats 8 spiders in their lifetime at night.

Nothing rhymes with month, orange, silver or purple.

Shakespeare invented the word "assassination" and "bump".

More people are killed by donkeys annually than by plane crashes.

Papaphobia is the fear of Popes.

Much love… Sneed


	5. The rise of Zomberg or Strange things

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dead like me, Futurama, Troy (or its motto), Bloomingdales, The O.C., Shaun of the Dead or Super Mario 64. If this story had a plot I may have owned that, though probably not.

I apologise for the bad spelling and grammar but refuse to do anything proactive about it.

The Dason Maisy romance is for Echidnite sorry if it's horrendously Out Of Character.

I have also been trying to update this for three days but something funky was happening and it kept being timed out.

* * *

Piling into the minibus they realised they had been taking far too long and randomly appeared in Orange County. They were not the same group of reapers, oh no, they were much older and wiser. Not really much older, and well perhaps not wiser at all. But they'd lost some body parts, which is practically the same thing.

Along their epic journey (which had taken longer than was entirely necessary) the band of reapers (and the crazy looking hanger-on-ers they'd acquired) had visited the museum of the 'Most Boring History of Toast' (Rube's choice), come face to face with several large mountain Lions (Mason's choice), stared apathetically at a collection of weasels in a pet store (George's choice) and spent an afternoon at Bloomingdales whereupon Rube and Ed had purchased large, matching frilly hats.

It is not entirely certain where the members of this motley band of misfits lost and injured any numbers of their appendages but it is rumoured it occurred during the salsa dancing class, that was wedged between the bear taming and bungy jumping parts of their epic quest.

Of course by now it was a quest. A quest for god knows what. They even had a motto.

"For Honour

For Victory

For Love

For Destiny

For Passion

For Toast"

It was a dark time for George, not entirely black, but definitely a dark steely grey.

After searching fruitlessly for the soul of someone called J. Zoidberg they realised they had not asked the lobster creature's name. Unfortunately the lobster creature was lying on the floor, writhing with the unspeakable pain of twister and mortal injuries which is really the same thing.

Casually reaping his soul Mason decided to steal the Lobster creature's lunch box which was later found to contain one mouldy egg sandwich and something which looked very much like a mouldy piece of cheese. On further inspection it did in fact prove to be a mouldy piece of cheese.

"You spineless lobster you didn't even refrigerate it" Mason yelled in anguish

"You had to drag spines into this, didn't you?" cried poor dead Zoidberg, his last words leaving his mouth in an anguished cry. His prostrate body jerked suddenly, throwing Roxy of balance and into the arms of the creature earlier identified as Ed. Shaun observing the scene gave his friend a quick thumbs up and then felt sick in his stomach. That happened a lot lately around Ed.

Shaun watched as his friend gazed into the unfortunate humans eyes. He felt sorry for her. Ed was dead. That was really all there was to say on the matter. Condemned to a life as a soulless zombie. Never again to join the ranks of humanity.

He had to say something to the girl, but seeing the look in Ed's milky white eyes, he couldn't bring himself to do it. With Roxy in his arms, Ed looked happy. Happy like he'd just progressed to level 33 on Super Mario 64. Shaun couldn't ruin that. Damn he thought "If she were only dead, they'd be a perfect couple."

"She is dead" said a voice

Shaun resisted the urge to scream. Hearing voices inside his head couldn't be a good thing. Looking up and meeting the eyes of the person who had snuck up behind him.

"Err"

"That's fairly eloquent" the girl replied, her eyebrow raised to the extent it was now somewhere in the vicinity of Jupiter.

"Err" said Shaun "Well I guess snog away then"

"Aren't you even going to ask why she's dead, or how for that matter" The girl questioned

"Would it make you feel better if I did?" Shaun looked apprehensive; evidently hoping the girls answer would be negative.

"Not really"

"Well good then" replied Shaun

The girl lowered her eyebrows and gave Shaun the sort of half smile of a kindred spirit.

"I'm George by the way" she said

"Shaun"

They parted amicably

* * *

Sadly as soon as George's day seemed to be looking up strange things began happening. Firstly they arrived in Orange County to the sound of strange music that was not quite exactly like something a teeny bopper would listen to. That was strange. Alighting from the bus the witnessed a skinny girl in a string bikini slap one boy then passionately kiss another, which was less strange. Then a large boulder fell, seemingly from nowhere, and landed on Daisy's platinum blonde head, which was very strange indeed.

"Oh my purple striped socks"

Seven eyebrows rose on seven foreheads.

"It's a perfectly normal expression" said Rube blushing. "Now are we going to take Daisy to hospital, or are we going to stand here laughing at my quirky expressions?

"Do you even need to ask?" replied George

"Right" said Liz taking control and walking towards the string bikini girl. Tapping her on her shoulder and receiving an inquisitive stare for her trouble. "Where's the nearest hospital by the way?"

"I was going for the stand here and mock Rube option" whispered George to Roxy

"So was I Honey, so was I"

The string bikini girl looked at them strangely. "The hospital's about 3 miles, I'll take you there myself"

"Won't your boyfriend mind?" said Roxy pointing to the boy she'd kissed so vehemently.

"Oh" said the girl "he's not my boyfriend. That's my boyfriend" pointing to the guy she slapped.

"And you all think I have relationship problems" said Mason.

* * *

Four hours later

Mason sat dejectedly by Daisy's hospital bed waiting for her to wake up. The Doctor had mentioned that although it seemed the wound had healed almost instantaneously there had been some scaring. There was no guarantee she would retain all of her mental faculties when she woke up.

A nurse entered the room in a ridiculously short skirt, in his dejected mood however Mason was too depressed to even stare appreciatively.

It was just his luck, a new chance, a new beginning in a place where all they seemed to do was break up and make up and the girl he love…err fancied ended up unconscious. What was this place, angst-ville?

Mason sighed heavily and idly tapped his fingers on the bed side table. Another minute passed and he increased the tempo of his drumming. Ten minutes elapsed and he tried out a reggae beat and began investigations into the art of punk rock back up music when a soft sound dragged him from his musical pursuits.

"Hey there"

Mason looked up into her sleep filled eyes.

"Hi" he replied just as softly

"Who are you?" and then it hit him like a ton of bricks he really had been given a chance with Daisy.

"Mason"

"Ok" she said softly

He smiled, bringing his hand to her cheek.

"I'm glad you're better" he thought soft thoughts

She smiled, gently and without the usual self-satisfied visage. Masons thoughts formed one coherent thought. With it he wondered exactly how long Daisy's memory loss would last.

He leant forward gently thumbing her cheek bone.

Their lips met softy.

Slap>

"What the hell was that for?" Mason yelled

"How dare you try and take advantage of me" Daisy screamed in return "I know you're desperate, by that's low. Are you that pitifully in love with me that you'll stoop to anything… I mean where do you get off."

Mason stared incredulously at Daisy

"I just thought…" he started

"NO that's just it, you never think about anything other than yourself. You're selfish and idiotic and useless."

"If that's what you really think"

"Of course it is you pitiful idiot"

"Fine then" Mason replied and stalked out of Daisy's room.

"I'm not finished" she said following him

She stopped, she stared and she stared some more. Ten minutes after he'd tried to kiss her. There he was the schmuck, shamelessly kissing the string bikini girl in the hospital waiting room.

"Let's get out of here" he murmured

The bikini girl giggled and they departed the scene.

Daisy started for a minute and then burst into tears running to another exit.

And "That", thought George "was the strangest thing of all."

* * *

So there we have it Chapter 5 ish. This chapter is of course dedicated to Nori who when I asked for a description of the O.C. emailed me the following description.

For the OOC insert as much crappy teen romance as possible where the characters never actually get together, followed by a attempted suicide, a failed marriage… then a trip to Bermuda a then a random stalker…a return of a wild family member, a tragic farewell and for my personal kicks: your attempt at a love scene. : P that is the O.C. in a nutshell.

I think that sums it up really.

O.C. enthusiasts don't be offended, she's a fan.


	6. Troo Wuv or something like it

Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Like Me or any of the books, movies, shows or their affiliates mentioned below. I own a pony and some pyjamas.

Author note: Upon checking my account I realised the last time I updated anything was a very long time ago so I went in search of my USB which had a half written chapter on it. Sadly I couldn't find it so I posted this instead, oh well.

P.S. whenI say oh well I really mean run for you lives, run while you still can.

* * *

For the first time in Mason's reasonably miserable existence, things were looking up. Ergo, he was suspicious. Very, very suspicious. He had a gorgeous girlfriend who, although prone to randomly making out with other guys to make him jealous and whining about her best friend who was suicidal, being stalked and breaking the law all at the same time, lived in a giant shiny house and was constantly buying him presents and driving him around in her big shiny car.

Some would say that Mason was paranoid; his constant glances over his shoulder and cringes when ever someone said his name attested to this fact. But anyone who had the slightest comprehension of his love life would understand why he was so angsty about his love and well …death. Living in a smelly, damp cave for ten years did that to you.

There was also Daisy's odd behaviour causing Mason concern. Daisy had taken, ever since their incident at the hospital, to crying in public, moping, avoiding him, shooting death glares at his new girlfriend and hiding the remote control. In short acting strangely.

What Mason needed was a good flashback to clear his head, but his hot girlfriend was taking him yachting for the afternoon, so flashbacks as therapeutic as they were would have to wait.

* * *

George hadn't thought Daisy could possibly get any worse. Unfortunately George had a habit of being wrong. George hated Daisy when she was perky, but Daisy depressed and miserable was, as George was fast discovering, infinitely worse. Daisy moped, she cried and she'd taken up lawn bowls. It was a frightening situation and George hated it, she hated Daisy and Mason and all the other reapers. She hated itchy feather doonas and the stupid Orange County which was not in fact Orange at all. She hated everything in this stupid place… except that guy over there.

Said guy was just standing there oblivious to the fact that George didn't hate him and that fact was well… almost endearing. The tragic thing was looking as she did, rather like she'd been on crack half her life, he probably hadn't even looked at her twice. Needless to say George was incredibly surprised when the guy that she didn't quite hate came up and introduced himself as Henry.

* * *

Daisy was a woman on a mission. She hadn't quite decided what that mission would entail, except that it would involve removing Mason from the clutches from that prissy little princess. Daisy felt it was her duty to extricate Mason, not because she had any feelings for him, of course she didn't the very idea was preposterous, but because she was Masons friend and college and she had to look out for him. And since, George was swooning over some O.C. cretin who had bizarrely taken a fancy to her, Roxy was occupied by an overweight Zombie and Rube had gone shoe shopping with Liz, Diane and Shaun she would have to save him herself.

Unfortunately she had no idea how to begin. She needed a pedicure. Twenty minutes later with her feet swirling in a mini Jacuzzi Daisy still had no idea how to separate Mason from the manipulative, conniving, self obsessed, narcissistic excuse for a member of the female sex. If she had been religious she would have begun praying but as it was she was sulking instead.

She needed a miracle. Pouting miserably she startled when she heard half the room utter a collective gasp. In through the door came a bedraggled figure in what appeared to be the remains of a dressing gown, which was so covered in all sorts of god-knows-what that it really could have been a fluoro green bunny suit and it would have been hard to tell the difference.

Daisy wrinkled her nose in disgust as the figure requested a hair cut and beard trim for a mass of hair that seemed to be growing spotted toadstools. She felt personally insulted that such a filthy creature had the audacity to come within 100 feet of her, really salons had lost all exclusivity.

Just as she was gathering her things to stalk out in outrage, she overheard the grimy goblin of a human being apologising for his filthy state. "I'm really very sorry" he was saying to the hairdresser who had placed a clip over her nose. "I'm usually very clean, its just I've been away awhile and not everywhere has refresher towels." He looked positively downcast as the hairdresser walked away to find some odour repellent and was muttering to himself in a British accent that reminded her of Mason. "Can't help it interstellar space and time travels a dammed messy business."

Daisy smiled her brightest toothiest smile as she strutted over to the smelly creature. She extended her newly manicured hand beamingly, "hello there darling, tough day" the cretin took her hand hesitantly as if some crazy monster like the Bug Blatter Beast of Trall would jump out from behind a sink. "Arthur" he replied "who are you?" Daisy treating him to one more dazzling smile, while wiping her hand on the shirt of a near by assistant. "I'm Daisy" she said, cheeks dimpling, "Daisy Adair."

Miracle indeed.


	7. Of angst and Dr Who and first person

Disclaimer: At this point I don't even want to own this story.

Parallel Earth a.k.a Pete's world

2000 and something-ish

Planet Earth. This is where I was born, and this is where I died. The first nineteen years of my life, nothing happened. Nothing at all. Not ever. And then I met a man called "The Doctor". A man that could change his face. He took me away from home in his magical machine. He showed me the whole of time and space. I thought it would never end. That's what I though, but then came the Army of Ghosts. And came Torchwood and the war. That's when it all ended. This is a story of how I died.

It isn't easy being left behind but that's the doctor's way. I don't blame him for it but it's hard to live this ordinary human life when I've been to the end of the earth and back again. Some days it hurts me more than others, some days I can't believe he's gone. But its more than that, he isn't gone. He's just not with me anymore. I cannot stand to be where he's not.

At least I have Mickey. The doctor; he's all alone. I have a life and he has nothing.

It's like Sarah Jane said, some thing's are worth getting your heart broken over. There's no one like him. The doctor, the only alien I've ever loved.

So here I am. Parallel earth, parallel torchwood, parallel life. That's what it is now, parallel and I can see the whole scope of my existence played out before me as if I've looked into the whole of space and time and seen the point where it happened. Where I lost him, my doctor.

Everything reminds me of him, of what I've lost. A cup of tea in the morning makes me remember the sight of his hazel orbs as they looked at me the first time he changed. A coat hung on the back of a chair, a three legged goat standing on the top of a double decker bus, a normal goat standing in a field of grass. These foolish things remind me of him. I look at the sun and think of him, I look at the moon and see his face. I notice a man with a pointy beard called Mr. Saxon trying to take over the world and I think back on all the good times we had.

And they wonder why we never get anything done at torchwood.

They say parallel Torchwood doesn't get much done either. The staff also all seem to be suffering from rare sexually transmitted diseases. Perhaps the two are related.

But on this morning as I step out into the world, I decide. I decide to let him go. I breathe in and out and perhaps one day that won't be so hard. I will carry on. There is afterall the baby to consider.

And that's what we British do best, carry on, chin up. But when I think of him alone, wondering how I am I can't breathe for the agony of it all. The pain that consumes me, a dull ache of longing is unbearable. So every day I wake up and breathe in and put the pieces of my life back together. It's what he'd want me to do.

I put on my coat and walk out into the world.

Here I am living a life, here on earth.

My name is Rose Tyler and this is how I lived.


	8. The rest of chapter seven

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or Dead like me, or Scrubs, or Tanzania - wish I did though.

Meanwhile...

Mason was pissed…not pissed drunk…maybe a little bit drunk… but mostly he was pissed annoyed. Why might you ask was a British drug addict, reaper, dead guy with a slammin hot girlfriend be annoyed? Firstly, because his slammin hot girlfriend had gone off to make out with randoms and secondly because there was a big blue box on the beach which certainly hadn't been there yesterday and it looked like they were having a rocking party in it.

A party to which he apparently wasn't invited to.

And just when he thought things couldn't get worse the door of the big blue box opened and a tallish good looking man stepped out yelling and speaking incredibly quickly. "What the hell is he saying" Mason thought "something about fish it would seem."

There was a girl standing next to him, her hair styled in a truly ridiculous fashion. Mason squinted and the hair style didn't look any more normal. In the absence of a wet smelly cellar to hide in or a great deal of hard liquor, Mason thought he'd better ask what in the name of flying frittata's was going on.

"Err" he said, an excellent start. "Banana hammock!"

The tall man stopped talking and stared. Shaking his head like a wet dog. The man opened his mouth again.

"So I'm the Doctor and this is… sorry what was your name again." The girl looked sizably annoyed. "Martha, that's right, Martha." He put his hand up next to his face so she couldn't hear him. "It's getting hard to keep track" he muttered.

"Now we're busy in hiding from these chaps who we met at a party in Leeds and really rather want to kill us … I think I may have implied that their mother's were overweight or something… so we'll just stay here for awhile until it all blows over."

Mason gaped. The lemur perched in a nearby tree scratched its foot.

The tall man seemed to be talking again.

"So in the mean time" he said fiddling with his coat pockets "want to be my new companion?"

The girl looked outraged. Mason felt his stomach sink. He was being propositioned by some lunatic who thought it would be a good idea to wear converse with a brown pinstriped suit. Not a good choice, not good at all.

He was about to find out how absolutely not good everything could get.

* * *

Pointless author's note (becuase i'm absolutely certain no one will ever read this).

Sorry, because this chapter has reached an all time low even for such a terrible story. It was written in less than 16 minutes which is probably a record.

On the up side, although there's really no point putting it here (see aforementioned no reading comment) new actually good multichapter crossover fic coming soon.

Well, decent multichapter fic coming in awhile.

Well really multichapter fic coming at some point.


End file.
